The agent of Seann William Scott, of American Pie Stifler fame, sat in her office. She slowly unscrewed the top of the bottle of Jim Beam as she stared blankly ahead. Moments ago, she had just put
the phone down, the last words she'd heard from it lingering in her ear. Taking a swig from the bottle she stabbed in the numbers of her one and only client. This was not going to be easy.

A ring and a half later; “Well? What did he say?”

An eternity and a half later; “J.J. says you couldn't be in the movie.”

The words came out of her mouth cold and cruel.

“I'll wear a suit! I'll be one of the helmet dudes in the background!”

She shut her eyes tight and sighed. “He said no, Seann.”

The silence hit her like a truck.

She heard the harsh click of the receiver slamming down, like the snapping of a neck, then the long, monotonous “Boo” tone; like the sound of a robot ghost. The sound of a once former Teen Choice
Award Winner's career flat-lining.

“At least we'll always have Bulletproof Monk.” She said as she leaned back in her chair and let herself fall into a fog of alcohol.